


Hope Tomorrow

by TheVineSpeaketh



Series: On Coping (Learn to Live Again) [2]
Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Coping, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Poor Charles, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2609792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVineSpeaketh/pseuds/TheVineSpeaketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex dares Charles to ask Erik out. Charles thinks it's a great idea. Until he doesn't.</p><p>Cherik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I knew there would be another part to this! And there may be more! But for now, I'll treat each part like the end, and you should too. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The sun was setting on what had been a relatively warm, lovely day outside. The city was aglow with orange light, the tinted windows of the structures all around gently reflecting the harsh orange light into a soothing, warming glow. The snow on the ground was fading slowly into the earth, a reminder of, perhaps, the fragility of time, or the gentility of existence. Charles liked to think it was the promise of new beginnings rather than some overture of loss. Yes, he thought to himself, clicking his briefcase shut with all of his class notes inside, he rarely thought of endings the way he used to, instead focusing on what could come of them.

            His assistant, a somewhat ornery student by the name of Alex, looked up at him from where he was flipping chairs onto tables and gave Charles a smile. "Professor," he said, and Charles looked up from where he was shuffling a few loose papers he'd forgotten to put in his briefcase, "you're smiling."

            Charles looked at him, raising an eyebrow and giving a quizzical smile. "What," he asked, "is it offensive for me to smile to myself? Shall I tone down my happiness to make you more comfortable?"

            Alex just scoffed, flipping another chair upside-down nimbly and seemingly without effort. "No," he replied, bemused with the reply he garnered. "It's just that you don't usually smile, and yet here you are. You've actually been smiling a lot lately." Charles looked away, giving a sheepish grin despite himself. "You glad winter is over, or is something else on your mind?"

            Charles could sense the underlying innuendo, and as much as he wished he had something to report along those lines, the most he could really say was that he'd made a new friend. Ever since he and Erik had met on the bridge, they'd been talking non-stop, keeping in touch over the phone and text, sharing their ideas with each other and meeting at least once a week for coffee and tea. They'd gone from meeting at their favorite cafe--which Charles adored because it made a splendid Earl Grey, and because it was Erik who first took him there--to meeting at Erik's apartment, only because Erik preferred German and Austrian coffees to their American counterparts (and honestly, after letting Charles try a sip one time, Charles could understand how he didn't like the watered-down taste of American coffee) and could only brew them at home.

            So, they'd usually go straight to Erik's from work, and Erik would usually be waiting for him with a steaming mug of Earl Grey and a grin on his face. While there, they usually spoke about anything that crossed their minds, though that usually led to a bout of lively debates that, if Charles was to be completely honest, he didn't mind at all. As their relationship got on, Charles had quickly discovered that Erik was an incredible radical, and though it certainly made for some heated debates regarding mutant healthcare and mutant integration into society, it didn't for one second affect their friendship. Their debates were never interspersed with direct attacks on one another, and though they disagreed on a fair amount of points, they still enjoyed each other's company, a thing which Charles thought for sure was impossible. He had become a good friend to Erik, and Erik had become a good friend to him, and it had all happened in only a few short months.

             They had actually planned to meet that very night at Erik's, maybe order in some Chinese take-out and talk about anything that crossed their minds, as they were wont to do, usually starting with how their days went. It had actually been a rather lovely day, thanks to Alex and his alarming ability to shoot down any and all idiocy that sprouted in any class. Charles was honestly surprised Alex wanted to become a teacher, considering how little he was willing to put up with. Maybe he was more suited to the job of drill instructor rather than that of educator. He chuckled to himself, re-opening his briefcase now that he got the papers sorted. He'd have to run that one by Erik. He'd get a kick out of it.

            "Well?" Alex asked, having flipped the last chair and taken to leaning against the front of one of the tables, his arms crossed and his gaze pointedly looking at Charles. "Do you?"

            "It's just a new friend I made a few months ago," Charles replied, clicking his briefcase closed and looking back up at Alex with a smile. "I'm going to see him tonight for coffee and tea. It's always lovely visiting with him, and I'm excited for it." He pulled on his coat, buttoning up the front before looking back up at Alex, surprised to see a sly smirk on his face. "What's that look for?"

            "You want to bang him." Charles sputtered, choking on a breath of air. Alex’s grin just grew, his expression growing more predatory. "Don't lie. It's written all over your face, Professor."

            "Alex!" he yelped, grabbing his briefcase and his keys and heading toward the door, Alex following swiftly behind him. "That is hardly appropriate work conversation." He pushed open the door, holding it so Alex could come through so he could lock it as they left.

            "But it's true," Alex replied, grinning as he stepped out of the classroom and lingering as Charles leaned in to lock the door. "It's no skin off my nose if you want to sleep with him, Xavier, but if you make a plan then you have to commit."

            Charles grumbled. "Did you not hear me say I've only known him for a few months? I doubt he'd take well to my advances in any case, especially since I've known him for such a short time."

            Alex laughed. "That wasn't a denial."

            Charles, for some reason, was struggling with his keys. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he couldn't help but imagine Erik in various scenarios thanks to their train of conversation. Really. It wasn't. "I'm not going to lie to you, Alex. You're my coworker, and I obviously respect you more than that."

            "Good to know," Alex said, distracted, and Charles resisted the urge to poke into his mind to see where this was going. True to Erik's word, they had gotten some practice in for Charles, and Charles had met Emma--who was gorgeous and who he was secretly jealous of because she was obviously very close to Erik--who had given him some very valuable and helpful tips about how to reign in his senses.  All of that combined effort had ended up making Charles much more successful at keeping to himself over the past few months, and he'd been reaping the benefits ever since, having only gotten even better in the process. He hardly had any strange dreams that were not his own. He'd slept better and felt better than he had in years.

            "How about this," Alex said, ripping Charles from his thoughts, and Charles finally got the lock to click shut, standing upright once more. "We should make a deal. If I ask out my friend tonight, then you have to ask _your_ friend out. No wussing out."

            Charles turned to Alex, not surprised to find his expression was one of smug joy, as if he knew Charles couldn't turn down a challenge, which he honestly couldn't. After mastering the art of controlling his own mind, Charles had encouraged others to do the same with their mutations, and he'd felt freer than he had in a long time. He'd learned taking chances and at least trying were always worth it, even if the result is not the one that was sought in the first place.

            It may not have been his usual caliber of challenge, but that didn't mean Charles didn't want to at least try.

            "Okay," he said, trying not to think of the implications of this deal. "What happens if one of us does 'wuss out?'"

            "If one of us doesn't do it," Alex replied, his arms folded, "then he has to foot the bill for the other's date."

            Charles thought on it. It wasn't like he didn't have enough money to foot Alex's bill if he ended up being the one that didn't ask, but that was the least of Charles's concerns. To ask Erik out tonight and put himself on the line like that was both a terrifying and thrilling prospect; there were equal chances to receive a yes or a no, and then there was the thought of what it could do to their friendship if chance had it that the answer was definitely no. Would Erik still want to speak to him? Would he still want to spend evenings in at his apartment with him, drinking tea and coffee and just talking about whatever suited their fancy? Charles didn't know if he could handle losing something that he had only gotten not too long ago.

            But what he stood to gain only made it all the more tempting to try. Charles wasn’t going to sit there and try to talk himself out of seeing Erik the way he saw him—Erik was a marvel to behold, a beautiful creature with intelligent thoughts and incredible mental stamina. Erik’s conversations brimmed with thought and enthusiasm, and his control over his mind was only rivaled by his control over metal, which was a beautiful thing to watch in and of itself.

When their conversations got quiet, Erik would occasionally play with little scraps of metal he carried with him, morphing them into different shapes in the air or just letting them float around him. He’d sometimes stir his sugar or his milk into his coffee with just the spoon when he was too busy scribbling plans for a brilliant new building or a metal contraption he was working on. Charles thought it was simultaneously the most wonderful and most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.

Sometimes he’d use the metal pieces to connect with Charles, swirling the metal around Charles’s fingers when he was drumming them on the table, dragging him away from his preoccupation with his thoughts, a gentle nudge back into the real world, and usually Charles would look up and see Erik smiling gently at him. Charles never had to tentatively probe forward to figure out what he was thinking in moments like those; Erik always projected his thoughts to him when he thought Charles needed it. He knew Charles was still sad sometimes, and he had no illusions that what he’d done on the bridge was the cure-all for Charles’s problems. But he also knew that he couldn’t leave Charles alone, and he wouldn’t.

Really, could _anybody_ blame Charles for being in love with him?

“Well?” Alex repeated, and Charles, startled from his thoughts, looked up from his stare at the floor to meet coworker’s smiling gaze. “You gonna go ask him or what?”

Charles grinned, nudging Alex not unkindly with his briefcase, heading for the door and pocketing his keys. “I’m going, I’m going,” he grumbled, and Alex’s laugh and soft, “Good luck, Professor!” brought a smile to his face.

(~~~~)

            Charles stepped outside, almost palpably whirring with giddiness and excitement as he made his way to his car. His mind was brimming with optimistic thoughts, thinking about Erik’s hands and his smile, his friendly demeanor and his blinding wit. It could all be his, the thought to himself as he climbed in his car and started his ignition, staring at a point somewhere beyond his steering wheel but before his windshield. Erik could possibly say yes, and could possibly make Charles one of the happiest (if not _the_ happiest) men in the world.

He pulled out of his parking spot, heading out onto the road and toward Erik’s. He could say, “Charles, of course I’d like to go out on a date.” He could smile a shy, reserved smile, like the ones he smiled when Charles complimented his metal sculpture or his sketches for potential buildings, or hide his face behind his coffee cup like when he does when Charles catches him off guard with a compliment. He could swirl the metal he usually carries with him around Charles’s fingers, encasing them like rings when he’s playing with Charles, laughing his exhilarated little laugh when he catches a glimpse of Charles’s grin.

This could be very, very good for him. He could finally find a reason to really get the ball rolling—not that he already hadn’t, of course—and maybe getting to wake up next to Erik every morning would give him an edge on those days where getting out of bed was nearly impossible. He was already trying, of course, to get himself up and about and doing the old things he used to do, but maybe he’d be a little more willing when he had Erik by his side as a permanent fixture.

Charles sighed, tapping his thumbs on his steering wheel, suddenly pensive. But, he reasoned, what if Erik didn’t want to deal with him on a 24/7 basis? _“I mean,”_ he thought, “ _I hardly want to deal with myself on my bad days, and I’m **me**.” _

Indeed, there were still days when Charles couldn’t rise from bed if he wanted to: days he spent crying on the couch and spending maybe a bit too long in the shower, the water just a little too hot. There were even days when it was hard to even go to Erik’s in the afternoon—days where he’d actually _cancelled_ seeing him, sending him a quick text after work and electing to instead try to avoid alcohol and maybe go home and nap for the next few hours, hoping it could last forever.

Charles couldn’t deny he was better about these kinds of things, but that didn’t mean he was completely stable, and maybe Erik wasn’t looking for a slightly unhinged telepath to hook himself onto.

The thought wriggled its way into Charles’s head, robbing him of his previous optimism. Where there was once nothing but light thoughts and Charles just walking on a cloud, there were instead the monsters he’d faced long before he’d even met Erik, his thoughts darkening. Their influence was like black, sticky oil skimming atop the calm waters of the ocean. It left him near to a panic, and he breathed in deeply, letting out a stuttering breath through his teeth, breathing evenly again and again until he could feel his heart calming once more.

Charles eventually pulled into Erik’s driveway, not feeling any better than he had a few moments ago, thinking to himself that Alex couldn’t possibly spend more than fifty dollars on his date, and he could just withdraw a few twenties from the bank when he dropped off his paycheck the next day. He made his way to the lobby door of Erik’s apartment, hitting the buzzer and waiting for Erik’s voice to come over the intercom. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, gnawing at his lip.

“Hello?” Erik said, sounding reasonable and calm as he always did, and Charles unconsciously let out a breath, already feeling a bit more relaxed from just hearing him. It was a bit pathetic, really, Charles thought, and his somewhat-brightened thoughts clouded again.

“Hello, Erik,” Charles replied, trying not to let his dampened mood get the better of one of the highlights of his day. “May I come in, or shall you leave me to the chill?”

“Of course, my friend,” Erik replied, the smile in his voice practically visible from the other side of the comm. “The cold can’t catch you in here. Come on up.”

The door buzzed angrily in its normal way, and Charles went inside, heading for the elevator and pressing the third floor button with practiced ease. He leaned back against the lone railing in the elevator, still thinking to himself as he ascended, trapped inside a small metal box with his own mind. After what seemed like eons, during which his thoughts had only taken a turn for the worse, the doors opened and he moved out into the hallway. Schooling his mind and making sure none of his insecurities were poking out (Erik was very adept at sensing even the most minute of his accidentally projected thoughts thanks to Emma), he approached the door of 3B and knocked.

He didn’t have to wait long. Erik soon opened the door, giving him a charming smile. Charles could see, just from the most cursory glance, that he was wearing his favorite black turtleneck (one of the softest shirts in the whole world, Charles was convinced of it) and a pair of grey slacks that fit him perfectly. He was barefoot, as was his wont when he was at home. He looked gorgeous, as usual, and Charles’s thoughts sunk even lower.

“Charles,” Erik said, delight evident in his voice. Charles couldn’t see how he was always so eager to greet him, considering they saw each other nearly every day, but he never failed to show his excitement to see Charles, even if it was only for a few moments.

“Come in,” he said, stepping off to the side with the door and allowing Charles to drift inside. “I’ve just put the kettle on, so we’ll warm your bones with Earl Grey in a moment.” He headed off to the kitchen after shutting the door behind Charles, disappearing around the corner. Charles began toeing off his shoes, still thinking.

“I’ve been working on a design I think you might be interested in,” Erik said, his voice drifting from the kitchen. The sounds of mugs being pulled out and spoons probably hovering from their places were permeating the air, and it was all terribly domestic. Charles allowed the sounds to wash over him, from the dulcet tones of Erik’s voice to the sound of the kettle heating up, attempting to calm himself more effectively by letting the familiarity of it all wash over him. He allowed his mind a little slip as he hung his coat, feeling out tentatively for Erik’s mind. He found it nearly immediately, almost preternaturally drawn to it, and took in its feeling, its soothing, warm presence, like the gentle ringing of a brass bell. It was comforting to be around— _Erik_ was comforting to be around. Charles was still saddened by his traitorous heart, knowing how much he loved him and feeling very strongly the futility of it all.

Charles came back from his brief reverie to find Erik was now leaning against the wall dividing the kitchen and the living room, his arms crossed and his eyes fixing Charles with a soft look. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lower. It was less conversational and more sincere, like when he’d first heard it on the bridge.

Charles plastered a smile on his face in response, standing up straighter and sliding his scarf off his neck, hanging up with his coat. “Of course,” he replied, making his way toward Erik and stretching his smile a bit farther, trying his hardest to be convincing. “Never better. Now, tell me about this building of yours.”

Erik looked at him with that same scrutinizing expression on his face, and Charles began to worry that maybe he’d let his thoughts bleed out a little bit, but then Erik was smiling a little again, though not as brightly as he was before. “Alright,” he said, leading them back into the kitchen. Charles immediately made his way toward the table as Erik moved away from him toward the pot, which was beginning to squeal. “The plans are there on the table, if you want to give them a quick glance.”

Charles did, leaning over the blueprints—which were currently on sketch paper, with little measurements scribbled on the sides—and looking at them, awe filling him. Erik was a very creative man, and he expressed it beautifully through his job, almost as if the medium was created for him in the first place. This particular building had a metal arch serving as the main support beam in the ceiling of what appeared to be the main area, the rest of the ceiling consisting of double-layered glass, letting in a lot of natural light. In the center, there was space for a few small trees or perhaps one large one, lending the space even more of a natural air. The place looked like it could house a few small offices, or be a public affairs building, or maybe even an eccentric library. The sky was the limit, really, with Erik’s inventions, and Charles never failed to be enthralled with them. It made him wonder how Erik could possibly stand to live in the apartment he had now.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, looking up to find Erik closer than he was before, both mugs in his hand. He gave Charles a pleased yet shy smile and held out his mug to him, Charles accepting it with a mute “thank you” and sipping on it, reveling in the taste of Earl Grey.

“Thank you very much,” Erik said softly. “I’m quite the fan of sunlight, if you couldn’t tell. I thought maybe it’d save on bills during the daytime, but I didn’t exactly design it completely with that bit of pragmatism in mind. It just sort of came about as a result, really. I like to think of it as a happy accident.” He sipped his coffee.

“Most good things are,” Charles agreed, and almost immediately a cold shock ran through him. His mind was already taking hold, transporting him to a darker place. He took another drink of his tea and trying his hardest to cover his thoughts. Their relationship was a happy accident, he thought to himself, just the result of some incident that neither of them really wanted to talk about anymore. Their friendship, as cemented as it might have been now, was not a set eventuality for either of them. In fact, Charles could have ended his life that day and none of this ever would have happened. Would Erik have been better off, he wondered, if he had ended his life? Would Erik be here with Emma, his traitorous mind offered, if he had never met Charles?

“Charles?” Erik asked, his hand gently touching Charles’s shoulder, and he jolted violently, nearly spilling his tea over Erik’s plans. Quickly, he set his teacup down, Erik’s hand leaving his shoulder almost immediately. Charles turned to look at him, not liking the pain he found in Erik’s eyes and the notch between his brows. He looked worried. Charles didn’t like that, either. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Charles huffed a laugh, trying to sound reassuring, but it died painfully between them. “I’m certain,” he replied, his voice doing a much better job of conveying his white lie. “Come now, tell me more about this building of yours. I was wondering how it could get through winter. You know winters here can occasionally be heavy, and I noticed that the glass rooftop was sloped. How much is it sloped? Snowfall could easily break a roof, but if it’s sloped correctly, it can just slide off the sides.”

Erik was silent for all of two seconds before he set his coffee cup down. There was a tic in his jaw that was visible from where Charles was standing. That tic always meant that he was uncomfortable about something, and Charles’s mood soured even further. “I don’t want to talk about the building anymore, Charles,” Erik said, concern apparent on his face. He finally turned to look at Charles, his eyes strangely intense despite nothing being different about them. “If something is bothering you, I’d want you to feel comfortable telling me about it. I’m always here for you, you know that.”

“It’s nothing pressing,” Charles replied, trying his hardest not to sound like it was a lie and giving another smile. He could almost feel how much of a failure it was reflected in Erik’s expression, so he dropped it almost immediately.

“But it is _something_ ,” Erik replied. “Charles. Whatever it is, it’s really bothering you.” He grew a little closer and his voice grew a little lower. “You don’t have to keep everything bottled inside.”

“Yes, but I don’t have to tell you _everything_ , do I?” Charles snapped, not looking Erik in the eye as he said it, feeling like a coward. He understood what Erik meant, but he also didn’t know the risks Charles could have run if he had told Erik everything on his mind. There was a reason Charles was enthusiastic about Emma giving him lessons in suppressing telepathy; he had scared away many people who made him sweet promises like that before, and he couldn’t blame them for running. “You shouldn’t have to bear the burden of my feelings, Erik. I’m a lot to handle, and it upsets me how I just take advantage of your patience like this.”

Erik was silent for a few moments, a sheet of stainless steel, tall and imposing and cold with some kind of unknown anger. It wasn’t the first time Charles had encountered that kind of anger; Erik had gotten the same way when they had been walking down the street once, and Erik had been bending metal fixtures into their right shapes when someone had called them one of the numerous slurs prejudiced people had for mutants. Even then, it had made Charles uneasy, despite it not being directed at him. It hadn’t lost its effect, even now.

Erik finally spoke, voice very firm yet tone not intimidating. “I let you unburden yourself on me because it’s my genuine pleasure, and I care about you, not because of any coercing on your part. You are not taking advantage of me.”

“I know that,” Charles spat, anger bubbling up in him. It wasn’t directed toward Erik, though, and he knew it. It was internal and venomous, and he felt sick to his stomach the longer it dwelled inside him. “But let’s face it,” he said, carrying on without his own consent, “none of this would have happened if you hadn’t seen me on the bridge that day. If you hadn’t spoken to me and let me invade your life the way I did, the way I currently _am_ , then we wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be happier, and you wouldn’t have worry about a telepathic invalid who dreams about jumping off of icy bridges and never stops _thinking_.” He looked up at Erik, feeling a bit foolish because there were tears welling in his eyes and a lump growing in his throat. His mind was a riot, and he could tell he was projecting. He was losing control, but that was okay because it was spilling out of his mouth anyway. “You’d be happier, I know it, because nobody’s happy when I’m around, especially me, and if there’s anybody on this earth I’d want to spare that, it’d be _you_.”

Erik’s expression, when he finally dared to meet his eyes, was fierce, quiet anger, his features somehow sharper, the muscles of his neck tightening with each breath he took, as if he was trying his hardest to control himself. “If you think,” he said, his voice deep and low, “for one fraction of a second that I would be happier without you in my life, then you may be a smart man, Charles Xavier, but I would be the first to call you an idiot.” Charles gaped at him, his mind suddenly slowing to a crawl, and Erik continued. “I stopped you on the bridge that day because you were sad and I thought maybe I could help, but it’s grown since then.”

His expression grew kinder, his voice softer, and he put a hand on Charles’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “Since then I’ve learned that you’re more than just your sadness. You’re so many things, and I’ve yet to even discover them all. I’m excited to get to know you, Charles Xavier, regardless of whether or not you’re still sad.” He gave him a sad smile, but it wasn’t full of pity. To the contrary, it seemed full of acceptance and willingness, and Charles nearly broke under its beauty. “As far as we know, you will always be sad, and that makes me sad too; but what makes me happy to know you is that you try not to let it consume you. There are days when you’re sad and I know you’re sad and you walk out your front door anyway, and you come to see me after work anyway. Those are the days when I am most proud to know you.” He let a small hopeful smile come onto his face as his mental walls came down slowly, and Charles felt safer than he had in a few days. “I don’t want you to feel as though you have to hide from me. The last time you kept trying to hide, you wanted to die, and if it makes you sad, then you shouldn’t keep doing it.” His other hand came up to rest on Charles’s other shoulder, and Charles sniffled, having started to cry again but not finding it in himself to really care. “I’m here, always: as someone to talk to about these things, as someone to be near when words won’t cut it, and most importantly, as your friend.”

Charles knew that. Yes, he knew that more than anything, and he was so happy it was true. But the old doubts still gnawed at him, those ugly creatures soiling his good thoughts and his happy days and trampling on his confidence, leaving him brittle and shaking. “But you could leave me,” he said, quietly. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he spoke. “I know it’s irrational, and it’s foolish, and I’m being incredibly obtuse right now, but I could say the wrong thing one day, or you could wake up and remember that I’m not perfect.”

He pulled a bit away from Erik, noticing the broken expression on his face and growing a little more desperate at the sight of it. “Erik, what if I tell you too much? What if, one day, I’m not good enough for you, and I grow to be too much to handle? There are so many things I want to say— _so many_ —and I would tell you all of them in a heartbeat. But I know that if I say them, there’s a chance, an insurmountable chance, that you could leave me and never want to be near me again.”

His breath caught on a sob, but he kept going, knowing this all needed to be said. Every word was him laying his heart bare and on the line. He felt the finality of his own insecurity as it hit the open air. “I can’t take that chance. As hard as it is to say this, Erik, I would crumble without you. I know I would end up on that bridge again, more ready than ever to jump, because I’ve come to rely on you too much.” This was it. His body was aflame as he spoke, his heart pounding too loudly in his chest. “I’ve come to admire you more than is necessary, and to see too much in seeing you every day, to take too closely to your smile and your mind. I’ve never felt this way about _anybody_. I’ve never felt worth _anybody’s_ time, but you’re starting to make me feel that way, and if I lose it, or if I lose _you,_ I know I’ll lose my mind. So I didn’t say a word.” His voice broke and grew quieter, and he looked Erik in the eye once more, trying not to read his expression. “You, as you are right this second, are all I need. But like the fool who flew to high, I want more.”

Again, Erik was a wall of silence, but Charles could detect the faintest taste of pennies in his mouth. Erik was nervous. Charles looked away, staring down at his Earl Grey sitting on the table. He knew without having to look at this was the part where he would be sent away, and he schooled himself, waiting for it to happen. He had to control himself until he got home; he had to keep his heart from breaking until he could be alone.

“Charles,” Erik breathed, his voice conveying his hurt, and this was it. Charles’s heart clenched painfully in his chest as he waited for the final blow: waited for the end of their friendship. Already, he could feel the darkness in his head grow greedy again, the monsters not sated for very long. He knew his bad days would now outnumber his good now that he wouldn’t be allowed to see Erik’s smile again. God, he shouldn’t have been this hung up over Erik; he hardly knew him very long.

Erik’s brow suddenly hardened, and he gripped Charles’s shoulders tightly, jolting him a little. Charles turned to face him, tugged closer by Erik’s grip. “Charles, stop thinking that this instant,” he said, his anger flaring to life, and Charles froze in place, stopped cold by the molten silver of his eyes. “I wouldn’t send you away if my life depended on it. In your haze of sadness, you haven’t figured how I would actually feel, my friend.” His grip softened, but his hands didn’t move. “Charles, I understand that what you’re feeling is what it is, and I can do nothing to change it. I’m sorry that I can’t, because if I could, I would.” His expression grew gentle again. “I know anything I say now won’t get to you properly, because you’re distraught. The only way for you to really know what I feel is for me to show you.” And, before Charles could even so much as grasp his meaning, Erik’s eyes slid shut, and his mind slid open.

Immediately, Charles was assaulted by feelings of affection that warmed him from head to foot, his mind ringing with the warm bells that Charles always heard while near him. Erik was feeding him all of the things he felt, as promised, and Charles’s breath hitched as random little snippets of thought trailed through his mind, things like _I wonder how he’s doing today_ and _he looks tired, I should take him home,_ and even things like _you deserve happiness, Charles Xavier_. All these little words passed through his mind like benign butterflies, leaving him feeling giddy and warm all over. Even while Charles was gone in the off hours where Charles thought for certain Erik shut him from his mind, he was still there, as if he was reaching deep inside him all the time, as if he was a constant mental presence: as if he was someone Erik never stopped thinking about.

The words faded into background noise as another section of Erik’s mind opened up, revealing the visual center of his memories. There, all Charles could see were images, layered upon one another like a massive collage, and it took him a startlingly long moment to realize that all of them were of him: Charles asleep on the table, head in his hands; Charles sipping on tea and staring out the window; Charles grading papers and groaning over the stupid answers; Charles, Charles, Charles…

Charles didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them, the wet blur of his tears fading into Erik’s smiling face. _“You have to talk to me, Charles,”_ he implored him, his voice ringing clearly in his mind, fitting amongst the bells. _“I can’t bear to lose you now that I’ve only just found you.”_

Charles’s whole body shook as he began to cry again, and Erik pulled him close, enveloping him easily in a hug that Charles returned. He raised his arms and his hands gripped Erik’s shirt tightly, Erik’s arms clasping around his waist gently. He cried into Erik’s chest, feeling him press a gentle kiss to the crown of Charles’s head as if bestowing a small blessing.

“I love you, and I’m sorry,” Charles said after a few moments, his voice quiet and feeble even in the silence of his apartment. He felt so stupid for thinking the things he did now that he had proof that they were unfounded, especially since he knew they had caused Erik pain. It felt nice to apologize for his mistake, feeling even nicer when his apology was accompanied by Erik’s arms coming around him more tightly and a surge of affection washing over him from deep within Erik’s mind. He could stay like that forever, he realized.

“I love you too,” was Erik’s reply, and Charles knew from the certainty in his voice that maybe staying with him forever wasn’t as far away a reality as he had previously assumed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://exacteyewriting.tumblr.com)


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